


With my body I thee worship

by Julie_Anne



Series: Through the wars [1]
Category: Maurice (1987), Maurice - E. M. Forster
Genre: M/M, Spanish flu, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julie_Anne/pseuds/Julie_Anne
Summary: How the boys turned up in Malta, the way I imagined it.





	1. Don't you die on me!

**Author's Note:**

> I squeezed my older relatives about the spanish flu. That mistrust about the wonders of Aspirin was actually heard by a great aunt, from a doctor.

Later, Maurice would recall the days of nursing Alec through Spanish flu as the worst days of his life. Mercifully, they were few, as the malady was quick to develop as any influenza is. It started with a headache, a bit of fever. They had rented lodgings for two weeks, and he gave Alec a sound advice:

\- It’s probably a nasty cold. Take some Aspirin, stay in bed and force fluids. I’ll make you tea.

Yet, at night, he was worse. His temperature had risen; he was clammy, incoherent and felt very bad.

Maurice was up all night making him drink plenty of sweet hot tea, giving him Aspirin every few hours, keeping his temperature down with a wet cloth on his forehead. Alec slept but it was agitated, unrestful sleep. In the morning, the temperature went up again, he had developed a cough that exhausted him and Maurice called for a doctor. He was a young fellow, roughly about his own age and looked extremely tired. Gave a quick look around and asked no awkward questions. He understood these close friendships built during wartime.

\- It’s the Spanish flu. – the man said – There is really nothing we can do for him that you are not already doing. It’s influenza, so try keep his temperature at bay, keep him warm, fed and hydrated, try not to catch it yourself… Don’t overdo the Aspirin, two tablets every four hours, at the most. I know most fellows say it is harmless, but I am not absolutely sure of it. Somehow, I cannot believe it can be a safe practice to swallow medicine as if it was nothing, no matter how wonderful it appears to be.

\- Keep on the safe side, right?

The man gave him a half smile.

\- That’s my idea… I’d rather my patients don’t die from the medication… See that he eats. Liquids mostly. Hot milk, soup if you can cook some. Never give him his tablets on an empty stomach. Remember tea is mostly hot water.

Maurice sounded rather educated, so the doctor could guess he knew what to expect and what to fear.

\- I won’t lie to you. This thing kills a great deal. First round was bad but this second one is even worse. He is better here, with you, who obviously know what you are doing, to take care of him, than in hospital. Hospitals are full of sick people, all down with the same damned thing. Nurses have no time to see to them all. If he is still alive in two days, he will probably survive. Give thanks he was already weak from overwork, because by now this seems to kill more often the stronger and fitter. I hate to say this but it is probably a question of how lucky you are…

For the rest of that day, he was in agony, fearing the worst, taking the utmost care no to become ill himself and surveying every lungful his friend drew, leaving his bedside only to make a fresh pot of tea, to warm milk or to go to the toilet. He would avoid his breath and wash his hands oftener than during nursing duty. He spent most of his time turning the wet cloth on Alec’s forehead or holding Alec’s burning hand and talking to him, nonsense really:

\- Don’t you die on me! You cannot die now. The war is over; we can go away, start a new life! Please, hold on. What am I going to do without you?

Alec murmured some incoherent words in answer, and he would hush him.

\- No, no, be quiet, don’t tire yourself! Let me do the talking, you rest.

He longed to kiss him, go get in bed next to him and hold him, but that he could not do. When fever went down one or two degrees, he tried to make him drink something hot and nourishing. His landlady, a sweet old thing who thought the world of them for being so respectful and quiet, « _not the kind of behaviour one would expect from young men these days_ », brought him soup, when she noticed they were quite alone, and had the decency to ask no questions. Anyhow, the temperature would not return to normal, as if the body refused to be healed by any other means than its own hard resistance.

The two days seemed to last a month. Once he fell asleep for a few minutes and woke up startled, terrified, only to find everything exactly as it had been half an hour ago. He forgot to eat and did not sleep. On the morning of the second day, the doctor called in, and scolded him badly:

\- You look worse than he does! That will simply not do! You know it will not help your friend if you breakdown from exhaustion, don’t you? You have to eat, and you must sleep when he is sleeping. Set an alarm clock if you wish, but you must have at least two or three hours sleep. After mid-day, give him the Aspirin and the soup, have some soup yourself and then sleep.

Maurice knew the doctor was right, so he tried to sleep, but could not really rest. He would sleep lightly for about three hours, and it did help a bit, but was far from enough. Alec was still coughing badly and still feverish and delirious and he was still dead tired. During that day, however, he began to form a routine: three hours sleep, check Alec’s temperature, and make him drink something, eat something himself, talk to Alec a little, to let him know he was not alone, try to put his fever down with the wet cloth, give him something light to eat and his Aspirin, then sleep again.

When dawn broke on the third day and Alec woke up breathing regularly and talking normally, his temperature still high but descending, he wanted to cry of pure relief. But what he did was give him a glass of hot milk, change his sweat soaked pyjama top for a dry, clean one, make him lie down again, and collapse on a chair where he fell deeply asleep for the next three hours. For the next month or so, he would wake up every three hours to see if Alec was breathing.

They were lucky: Alec got steadily better. It was a slow recovery; he was weak, drawn, peaky, but alive. The cough lingered for some time, he slept a lot, had to be careful and sit up slowly or the whole room would seem to spin around him. They stayed for a few weeks more. It might be dangerous for Alec to travel so soon after the flu.


	2. Malta it is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovering from the flu and planning ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ever grateful to Lilliburlero for the Malta idea.

Sitting next to Alec, Maurice made plans. He had been out a lot, now that his friend was recovering. He got up early, made breakfast, urged Alec to stay in bed a little longer…

\- I’ve been in bed so long I’ll probably never want to see a bed again in my life! – Alec complained, trying to get up only to find out he wasn’t strong enough to do it so soon.

\- Rest. Doctor’s orders. You’re weak as a baby. I won’t have you getting ill again…

\- You are not exactly blooming, you know.

\- I’m fine, Alec. Maybe a little tired, but otherwise fine. I’ll be back by mid-day, I promise…

Alec would usually agree in the end. He was weak. And out Maurice went. Useful outings, he said later, very educational:

\- As soon as you get better, we are going away. I’ve been researching, talking to some of my old and less boring business contacts. I did learn a good deal during our first year, you know?

Maurice had arrived home to find Alec in the kitchen, in pyjamas and dressing gown, making tea, slicing bread and there was a delicious smell of sausages, so they were having a comfortable talk over cups of hot tea, bread and butter and sausages.

\- Less boring?! What do you mean by less boring?

Maurice’s eyes met his, looking over the brim of his cup with a playful twinkle.

\- Fellows who engage in nearly illegal stuff besides their regular business.

\- Scoundrels and crooks, you mean.

\- Just slightly… – his tone was still playful, he felt so happy to see Alec getting back to normal.

\- How can one be just slightly a scoundrel, pray tell!

\- Well, what they do is not exactly criminal, just a wee bit dishonest. I would never be able to work with real crooks. I have a conscience. There are things I will simply not do.

\- Like what?

\- I will never trade people. I will never trade drugs. – he quivered at the idea of doing such things.

\- Trade people?!

\- Oh, yes! For hard work, for sex. There is a lot of that going on. That I will never do, I promise you. I’ve been learning a lot of things I’d prefer to forget, too… But never you mind, the fellows I spoke to told me a great deal of interesting things I can use to our advantage.

\- You are starting to scare me…

\- No, don’t… I’m never going to put us at risk, you can depend on that. It may be complicated at times, devious, but never dangerous. I know a lot of things now, the kind of knowledge that will enable me to make the right people do exactly what I need them to do…

\- That sounds dangerously like blackmail… - Alec’s knitted brow gave him a half puzzled, half-angry look.

\- Never! It will be nothing but an exchange of favours. All very civilized, all very clean and neat. Besides, they too know something about me that I’d rather not spread around… – he looked and sounded very assertive.

Maurice seemed to have grown so self-assured he gave the impression of being a rather distant relative to that muddled and confused young man Alec had met a few years ago. Happily, Alec thought, he loved this new Maurice at least as much as he loved the other.

\- We should go to Malta. – Maurice had apparently been talking on while his thoughts were drifting away.

\- Malta? Why Malta?

\- Because it is British territory and we’ve already been there and know the place. Because people are less intrusive. They don’t know us, they will not care if we live in the same house. We can say we are related…

\- We are related!

\- Not like that, you lovely and infuriating creature! Like first cousins once removed, or something. On top of that, remember how the climate is great, bound to restore your health. After you get really better, you can return to your nurse’s work. You are good at that and I know you love doing it. I’m going to do what I’m good at. Malta is the place. And think about the bonus of sun all year round!

Alec stretched on his chair with a mischievous smile and a spark in his dark eyes, in spite of his frown:

\- Let me see if I’m getting the meaning straight: my Maurice is going to be a scoundrel.

He was just teasing. Deep down he was very proud of how wonderfully self-confident his Maurice had grown.

\- No. Your Maurice is going to do business with scoundrels of sorts, and is going to make a lot of money in the process. And he won’t even have to leave his chair…

\- No more digging ditches, then?

\- Not unless we have to. I would not mind that, we have done it before and we were very happy doing it. As long as we are together, it is fine by me. I think you are not strong enough for that kind of work and besides we just don’t need to. My brother-in-law managed very nicely a small account I set for us both back in 13, so we have a good bit of cash to work with.

\- You have a good bit of cash!

Maurice’s face turned all of a sudden very serious. He took Alec’s empty cup to the sink, came back and kneeled in front of his chair, looking straight into those beautiful dark eyes. He was aware of how difficult a subject money could be, even between people who loved each other as deeply as they did. He had to pick the right words.

\- No. We have a good bit of cash. With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, with all my worldly goods I thee endow. I take it very serious.

\- Those are the marriage vows…

\- I know. Don’t you consider yourself married? Because I do. We never did the ring thing, but sure enough did the body thing a lot. All that I have, you have. Would you not do the same for me? In addition, if you care about the ring, I’ll get you one too.

Alec touched his lover’s lips to hush him, his eyes shining.

\- Stop! You’re going to make me cry…! Malta it is, I guess!


End file.
